


The Tailor Woman

by Blue_Writer



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Based on a Vocaloid Song, Blood, Decapitation, Delusions, Edo Period, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 14:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16266371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Writer/pseuds/Blue_Writer
Summary: Perfection was a must.She was a woman who wished to live a simple life, much like the other villagers that she has grown to adore with all her being. The only attribute that was left to fulfill, was a husband to share her success and soul with.





	The Tailor Woman

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of the vocaloid song "The Tailor Shop of Enbizaka"
> 
> And yes, this revolves around a canon x oc, however, neither get a happy ending. This is more or less a fanfiction of me practicing a different style of writing. So, take this however you will.

**一**

The village was quiet, and the villagers were gentle when she first arrived. She came towards an abandoned house, and remembered the village folk helping her clean away the cobwebs and dust the future allergic reactions. They help tear down walls that were corroding, and replaced the old screen doors with freshly colored spider lilies. The shop she had wanted since she was a child became her sanctum, her home, her world where she could watch the other world from afar. After she began to work with the pair of scissors her mother had passed down to her, she became the talk of the village for her craftsmanship and her positive nature towards customers who would request for her services.

Perfection was a must.

She was a woman who wished to live a simple life, much like the other villagers that she has grown to adore with all her being. The only attribute that was left to fulfill, was a husband to share her success and soul with. A lover was a dream she often dreamt about, and each dream would be different than the last. A mere apparition of a man would appear to her, and hold her so tightly in his cold, strong arms and broad shoulders. It made her feel as though she was enfolded in the open arms of nothingness each and every time. Though she craved the perfection that she has sworn to give her life to as it’s faithful servant, she could never gather what little creativity she had, to picture the perfect lover.

**二**

How they first met, was a memory she kept for the rest of her days, and although they never directed eyes to each other, she remembered feeling her heart race the moment she laid her only eye on him and his silhouette. The sight of his beauty alone, made her brush away the black hair that curtained her other eye, in hopes that perhaps she wasn’t in a dream and the man standing furthest from her was real.

Blue eyes that shimmered under blonde lashes and unruly blonde hair kept in a messy ponytail, held a beautiful cherry blossom pin as a way to keep the hair in place. The white he wore, made her feel as though she was staring upon a God.

One glance from him, was all it took for her face to turn as red as the crate of tomatoes she stood next to, and she quickly turned her head away to pretend as though she never noticed his presence.

She dreamed of him that night.

It was still fresh upon the roll of her tongue once she learned the very name he was given at birth:

Ryo.

**三**

“Hirabayashi-san, would you please be so kind as to look over my kimono and perhaps fix anything disoriented?” A young brunette asked her, presenting her a neatly folded kimono that held beautiful shades of green.

She kept her silence and simply nodded--a faint smile on her lips with her own piercing gaze looking over her shape and big green eyes that gave her porcelain skin aglow.

A living doll, was what she compared her to, and as she watched her figure leave, she gripped the scissors in her hand with growing malevolence. She had seen the young woman standing next to her cherished lover, and she remembered the guttural feeling of disgust and betrayal. She had turned away from the two of them talking when she could no longer withstand it, as though she knew in her heart, that their friendly little chat was of his intent to spite her scorn.

The audacity of the brunette woman appearing before her sanctum after associating with her idolized lover was all she could think about throughout the passing minutes of her visit, and her request of her kimono to be fixed; apparently a prized possession to which she was proud to have.

Teal was indeed a beautiful color, and the flowers that bloomed upon its silk was indeed a cloth that is meant to be proudly worn.

Yet she felt as though the brunette had no right to be wearing something so beautiful, and so beloved. The kimono deserved to be worn on a pure maiden, such as herself, and Miss Miki, was not deserving of such beauty.

Not after the familiarity she has spoken with to the blonde, and the number of times she had given him her disgusting little smiles.

10.

She smiled to him at least 10 times before she could no longer bare the sight of it.

Just remembering how the two interacted, made the grip on her scissors grow tighter. Instead of approving the request, she stood from her knees and continued to mutter words her ears could barely reach.

It gave her the answers she needed, of Ryo’s whereabouts, and why he never returns home, where he belonged.

**四**

“I have to continue my work..”

The reminder was to no one but herself. The very blades of her scissors that could be heard upon the silent room, were kept in their precision to make the very teal kimono her perfect fit.

She was careful to keep the red on her hands from staining the shining silk, yet never minded the red slick that messy the handles of her tool. As long as she kept the blades clean and nicely sharpened from her previous work, then her next personal work shall be a masterpiece.

Or so as her mother once told her, when the scissors were passed down to her.

**五**

The village was in a state of unease, yet she paid no mind.

Thread was all she headed to worry.

Blue was what she found, and she felt her heart race out of happiness when the very color reminded her of the eyes of her beloved. A smile adorned her lips from her very crystal clear memory of the dream she had the night before.

She memorized his touch and how their fingers perfectly knitted together when being held so closely to him under the bright full moon that glossed them with it’s brilliance.

The thread was soon the least of her focus, when she grew excited to see the familiar graceful white that adorned him so perfectly, yet the very excitement dissipated when her single hazel eye landed upon the very woman standing next to him, and walking the very same pace as his.

Black hair covered the very sorrow on her face.

She appeared grieved, as though there was a loss. Her stare grew harder the longer she watched--absently placing her roll of thread within the comfort of her spacious black sleeve. She felt her single sewing needle nuzzle close to the very skin of her palm, and wordlessly left the shop without reciprocating the very ‘thank you’ from the woman behind the counter.

You really are deceitful aren’t you?

Was the only question that raced upon her mind like butterflies celebrating the life of springtime.

Red.

The first color to ever caught her eye, was the red that kept serpent around her waist, and it gave her the thought of how it matched the very handles of her scissors.

But scissors were not the only tools she needed to create the masterpiece she wanted.

**六**

“I have to continue my work..”

She reminded herself once more, having yet to clean her hands of the very red that soiled the sewing needling in her hand, and the thinly silver thread.

Her smile kept warm, like the color of the sash.

The ornament had hints of disarray and felt it was necessary to take it upon herself to give it the gift of perfection before placing where it truly belonged.

It felt as though it was an unfortunate loss that the scissors had to be used to snip away any excessive amounts, yet she grew confidence in the size she fitted, and felt as though the decision was a right one.

**七**

The village was strained with the pressure of discomfort, for apparently, there was another crime.

Yet she paid not a single mind of it, for material was what she headed to worry.

She found herself growing proud of her current work that has yet to be complete, but there was a missing piece in the puzzle she was solving.

As she came near a shop of material, the very corner of her retina captured the sight of the familiar pale blonde that she had grown to cherish with all her heart. She stood in a frozen stance, nails scratching on the pale flesh of her arm underneath the black sleeves of her kimono, and the dull fangs hidden beneath her lips, grinded and clicked.

**_You really are indiscriminate…_ **

There was nothing to do, but to watch.

Her beloved Ryo stood before a man, his stare was much like the adoration in hers, and he had given him a pin to match with the cherry blossom he wore in his messy ponytail. The male gave him a warm smile in return for the gift, and the nails under her sleeve, only continued to leave scratches upon her skin, as they were beginning to release small, red pearls.

“I hope you like it Akira,” Ryo had said to him in such a sweet, loving voice that her own heart caught itself in her throat.

She continued to remain frozen in place when her wide eye looked upon the hands that laced together. Mourning was the least she felt however.

For she was a girl who kept her goals in mind, and will stop at nothing to complete them.

**八**

“I have to continue my work..”

She repeated, smiling in a faint daze--staring upon the cherry blossom charm dancing vividly in the gold stained with red.

A giggle escaped upon the very crack of her lips after a glance upon her reflection. With her work now complete, a masterpiece was born upon the wicked pale of her silhouette.

A teal kimono,

A red sash,

A golden cherry blossom pin,

Everything was now set into place, and she found her delight soaring through the heavens, and it was then that she knew it was time.

“If you won’t come to me,” she muttered, slowly looking to her duplicate that strangely held such an unnaturally wide smile. “Then I’ll come to you.”

**九**

The village was in chaos, there was yet another crime much like the last, yet she paid not a single mind to it, for her darling God known as Ryo was all she headed to worry.

Her smile was kept knitted to her lips, the teal she wore hugged her body close, and she found confidence in perhaps the blonde male would recognize her and greet her upon the brilliance of the white he would spread to embrace her. She never minded the stares she was given by the villagers, the only stare that mattered to her was the very blue that belonged to her lover.

“Ryo…” she softly called his name, gently resting her hand upon the white sleeve; her heart racing and her body already feeling weakness just having the very beautiful blue lay itself upon her.

She felt as though she was graced, as though she had been blessed for this love between them to bloom and to fertilize into a future that she had longed for despite Ryo’s constant infidelity.

“Hello there,” he began, gracing her with a very faint smile that mismatched the dark circles beginning to form under his red and puffy eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, but it still nice to meet you.”

Silence stood prominently between them, shoulders slowly lowered, and the look of muted disbelief slowly formed into a faint smile of content.

**_You truly are so cruel…._ **

**十**

The village had fallen into a scrambled mess.

Yet another crime has been committed, of a man having been murdered. The fourth crime to have happened in less than a singular week.

Her scissor blades now stained in the very red she never minded, and her smile made her next work all the more enjoyable for her.

She no longer found a single issue when the red began to stain the white she was cutting open, and she found delight in the very blades cutting into the beautifully smooth pale skin. If anything, the skin was of little to no importance to her. What was truly important to her, was anything that she could keep of him.

The beautiful blue in his eyes have grown dull, yet she took the fault for such.

Keeping the graceful blonde would only bore her, for there would be plenty to hold the same color.

Despite the constant back and forth counsel in her mind, she found comfort in the idea of removing the neck from the rest of the disembodied mannequin that laid still before her.

“The sharper the blade, the better it cuts, that’s what my mother would always say.”


End file.
